


learn to let me go

by ushjima (kongniverse)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kongniverse/pseuds/ushjima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yahaba's only wish is for Hanamaki to find someone who loves him the way he deserves to be loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	learn to let me go

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you all enjoy this.. ball of nonsense of a fic. it's basically unbeta'd and i will be editing along the way. while writing this, i listened to EXO - 'My Answer' which made me kind of get a little emotional somewhere.. midpoint lol. i hope you all enjoy! comments and kudos are always appreciated.

“So I was wondering, when was the last time you actually went on a date?” Kunimi flops onto his belly on Yahaba’s expensive white velvet couch. The older only hissing from the kitchen to tell the younger to get his dirty feet of the material, his hands busy opening cupboard to cupboard trying to remember where he kept the tea cups. “Seriously, Dr. Yahaba-san.” 

Yahaba stops only to look at Kunimi. “I told you—stop meddling into my love life.”

Kunimi gives a small ‘pft’ and turns his eyes over at the coffee table in front of the couch, where Yahaba’s papers are scattered all over the glass. Messy. “I was just wondering if your dates were interested in,” he mumbles, eyes squinting trying to get a better look at the words on the paper. “Studies on the quantitative and qualitative characterization of er-ery-erith-how do you say this word?”

“Erythrocyte.” The older sighs, moving onto preparing to brew the tea. “Stop trying to read my research paper.”

“Erythrocyte gluta-glutta-gluttony,” Kunimi gives up eventually, roughly grabbing the paper off the table and bringing it close to his face. “How do you fucking say this?”

“Erythrocyte glutathione peroxidase.” He says clearly with no stuttering, as expected from a medical school graduate, unlike Kunimi’s pitiful attempt.

“Wow,” Kunimi gasps. “You were cool for one second.” Limply placing the paper back onto the table.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Hanamaki. _ I bought ikura don for you. Coming over. _

_ Ok. _ He replies quickly and continues to watch over the boiling hot water.

“Was that Hanamaki-san?” Yahaba nods. “Is he coming over?” He nods again.

Kunimi sits himself straight against the back of the couch, stretching his hands outwards and feeling the crack in his joints. “You’re still being babysat by him? Yahaba-san, you’re 29 years old.”

“He doesn’t  _ babysit _ me, Kunimi.”

“Right, at this point, it’s called charity work—” The younger rolls his eyes and plays with fold of his rolled up pants, trying to even out all of the creases. “Technically, because of you, Hanamaki-san hasn’t been dating either.”

“What do you mean by ‘technically because of me’?” Yahaba’s eyebrows furrow. Like he’s the biggest reason why his senpai hasn’t had a dating life since, what? his third year of high school? He swears that the last time he’s seen Hanamaki being romantically involved with someone was before he even turned 18 years old.

“You’d get lonely, probably. You’d probably cry too. If Hanamaki-san started dating, who’d bring you ikura don at 4p.m on a Saturday?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Hanamaki-san said that last week you couldn’t tell the difference between cooking oil and massage oil.” Kunimi bites the bottom of his lip. “No wonder that pan fried chicken he dropped off at my office tasted awful.”

“Shut up.” Yahaba feels his cheek turn red. “I’m not that handy in the kitchen.”

“You know how to perform surgery but can’t tell the difference between olive cooking oil and olive massage oil.”

“Performing surgery is harder.” He tries to save himself from this embarrassment. Kunimi had always been super blunt and straight-forward, earning him a couple of headlocks back in his high school days by his seniors. Yahaba has never though, he’s surprisingly shorter than the kid. Hanamaki however, was a top contender of putting Kunimi in a headlock. “I thought they were all the same.” He softly mutters to himself and hopes Kunimi didn’t hear.

“I had to drink three cups of coffee to get the taste out, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” The kettle boils and Yahaba more than happily skips over, can’t contain his excitement to try out the new tea leaves that Watari brought him from his vacation to India. When he had dropped off his friend at the airport prior to his departure, Watari asked if there was any souvenirs that he wanted and Yahaba jokingly asks if Watari could bring back the Taj Mahal for him and gets a friendly slap to the head instead.  _ Don’t be ridiculous _ .

“The tea smells nice,” Kunimi leans his head back against the couch. “Though, I prefer beer.” He chuckles and Yahaba rolls his eyes.

“You’re going to get a beer belly soon.”

“Ah but beer belly or not, I’ll still get dates. Unlike you, doctor.” Yahaba wants to smack the teapot at Kunimi’s forehead.

“Stop calling me that,  _ please _ .” Being called doctor by his friends sounded so weird, especially coming from the ones who call him ‘dumbass’ or ‘asshole’ on an almost daily basis.

At the same time, Hanamaki parks his car by the sidewalk and he trusts his years of driving experience to not knock over the line of trash cans by the sidewalk. He kills off the engine and grabs the neatly packed take out on the passenger seat and rushes out, nearly forgetting to lock the doors of his Mazda CX 5.

“Yeah but you  _ are _ a doctor though, Yahaba-san.” Kunimi plays with a strand of his hair. “That doctor title in front of your name should already be landing you lots of girls. Or even men, if you go that way.”

“Kunimi,” Yahaba whines, begging the younger to just stop talking for one second.

“Hey, I’m here” says Hanamaki as he walks through Yahaba’s door, interrupting Kunimi before he can muster one more word and Yahaba feels like he’s been saved from listening to second of Kunimi’s useless taunting. The two males now focusing their eyes on him and the white plastic bag in his hand. “Ikura don.”

Yahaba happily pushes himself away from the kitchen counter and takes the plastic happily in his hand. Kunimi pouts, jealous. “Did you bring anything for me?”

“Yahaba didn’t say you were over,” He closes the door behind him, changing his shoes to the spare house slippers that Yahaba always prepares for his guests. “So I didn’t get you anything. Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry—” Kunimi mumbles. Hanamaki chooses to ignore the younger and joins Yahaba in the kitchen where he sees Yahaba placing the take out in the fridge. “You’re not gonna eat it now?”

Yahaba shakes his head and closes the big fridge door behind him. “For dinner.” Hanamaki gets it and asks if he should help with the tea and Yahaba tells him to go sit on the dining table or go join Kunimi on the couch cause the kitchen is getting cramped and Yahaba has his own way of brewing his tea.

“How come you don’t buy me stuff, Hanamaki-san?” Kunimi scooches over after Hanamaki slaps his knee gently telling him to give some room. “Am I not your favourite kouhai?”

“Not even the slightest.” Hanamaki knits his eyebrow, giving a laugh at the way the term ‘favourite kouhai’ rolls off Kunimi’s tongue. “You were probably the most un-cute kouhai.”

“Kindaichi was cuter than you.” Yahaba adds salt to the wound on Kunimi’s heart, he can’t believe that these two senpai’s of his will just gang up on him like this. He grabs at his chest, feeling like someone just shot through his heart. The world has never been more cruel to him.

“Kindaichi was like, like, super taller than both of you combined.” Kunimi pleas in the most disgustingly baby-ish voice. Yahaba feels like throwing Kunimi out of the window.

“Word your sentences properly,” Yahaba scolds and the younger lets out a ‘geh’, the usual one he does when he’s been caught speaking impolitely and messily towards his seniors. Usually it was Watari who would pat his back and tell him to slow down and speak properly, Yahaba would just smack his arm, regardless of where they are.

As they were from a team that was considered a powerhouse school, they were interviewed quite frequently for sports articles and Yahaba, for some reason, will automatically gain super sensitive hearing on the day of the interview and is quick to call out on mistakes of his members. Oikawa was more on the chill and relaxed side, but the man himself oozes an aura of “don’t-you-dare-mess-up-or-else”.

In conclusion, Yahaba Shigeru is a man of action.

“Kindaichi might be 190 something centimetres now but he is still cuter than you.” Hanamaki drapes his arm around Kunimi’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Yahaba is still the cutest.”

“Yeah, well, Oikawa-san was my favourite third year.” Kunimi grumbles and pushes the older away from him, annoyed at this kind of favouritism. Hanamaki plays favourites and Yahaba always comes out on top. “Go and date Yahaba-san, you disgusting senpai. Save him from his lonely love life.”

“For the love of god,” Yahaba barks from the kitchen. “My love life isn’t lonely, Kunimi.”

Hanamaki falls silent a little and loosens his hold on Kunimi, before swallowing to clear his throat. “Your senpai and I are practically married.” He says confidently and runs his finger through his hair. “Seriously, who else wants to take care of this overgrown baby aside from me?”

Yahaba walks over and smacks the top of Hanamaki’s head with a coaster. “Knock it off and go pour the tea for all of us. That’s your punishment. Since you wanted to help out so bad earlier.”

Hanamaki groans and hesitantly gets off the couch. Yahaba glares at his senpai and back at Kunimi who tries to hide his face away before he gets put on toilet scrubbing duty, even though he does technically live there. (Everyone leaves so much of their shit at Yahaba’s apartment and Yahaba feels like his apartment is more of a daycare for grown ass men instead of his own living space)

—

Yahaba’s sitting in the passenger seat of Hanamaki’s car, windows rolled all the way down and the cold winter air fills in the car as he sneaks his hand out of the window to play catch the wind. Hanamaki’s busy grumbling and frowning at the GPS, mumbling a curse word every now and then. The GPS is actually his biggest enemy, telling him to stay left when the exit is way on the right, nearly causing traffic jams and so on. 

“For my birthday, get me a new GPS.” He speaks, one hand rattling the GPS, begging for it to work properly, and the other glued onto the steering wheel.

“You’ve lived in Japan for 30 years and you still can’t remember the directions?”

“I do remember, just that Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s house.. it’s in an area I don’t really go to.” He tries to find reasons to help himself. “Why didn’t they just stay in that old apartment? God.”

“It’s for the baby, probably.” Yahaba’s fingers are busy trying to grasp the strong push of the wind. “Oikawa-san always told me he wanted to live in the suburbs once he has a child.”

“What’s so bad with raising a child in the city? It’s no different. My parents raised me in Sendai city and I turned out alright.”

“Tokyo is different from Sendai, Hanamaki-san.” Yahaba turns to look at Hanamaki. “You’re not exactly ‘alright’ either, stop trying to lift yourself up.”

Hanamaki’s hand snakes to grab at Yahaba’s milky cheek and pinches it. Hard. Leaving the younger to wince and fight the hand off of his face. There’s just a slight tinge of pink growing.

“That hurts!” Yahaba rubs his cheek and Hanamaki’s quick hands go up to ruffle the light brown hair, purposely trying to mess up his hairstyle because he knows Yahaba is so nitty about his appearance. “Oh my god.”

“You look cute like that.” He laughs gently, watching the younger whose panicking and trying to fix himself up in the small mirror on the car visor.

“Are you being serious?” He snaps, fingers busy trying to style his brown hair back to the way it was. “I look like someone who just got in a fight with a toddler.”

“Don’t worry Dr. Yahaba, you’re still cute to me.” Hanamaki jokes and gives Yahaba a playful shove into the car door a little. “Don’t stress.”

“Go away.”

They arrive at Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s new house in one piece, thankfully. Yahaba hasn’t murdered Hanamaki yet for messing up his hair. He steps out of the car and straightens out the creases of his duffle coat and scarf. He reminds Hanamaki to grab the housewarming present from the back seat of the car and checks his reflection in the car window one more time.

“What a fancy house,” Hanamaki mumbles behind his scarf, shivering from the cold air. They’ve pressed the doorbell for the fifth time and it seems like old habits don’t change. Oikawa and Iwaizumi always took long to answer the door. Yahaba prays every time he comes over that they’re not in the middle of doing anything  _ illicit _ .

“Hey,” Iwaizumi opens the door to greet the two male. Yahaba greets back and Hanamaki hands over the present into Iwaizumi’s hand. They welcomed themselves in, placing their shoes neatly by the front door and guided by Iwaizumi into the living room. Yahaba spots Kunimi immediately, slouched on the couch with Oikawa next to him and the baby sitting cutely on Oikawa’s lap. Kindaichi greets him and so does Watari.

He wants to go and help Iwaizumi out in the kitchen, but apparently he has it all under control with Hanamaki and Oikawa calls his name out anyway, telling him to come over onto the couch and meet the baby.

So he does. Yahaba is surprisingly not awkward around the baby. When Oikawa first told him that they had adopted little baby Hikaru, Yahaba’s first worry is that “what if I drop him when Oikawa-san asks me to babysit?”.

“I think he likes you!” Oikawa coos, looking over at Hikaru who is more than happy to be held in Yahaba’s arms. Yahaba only gives an awkward laugh and prays that he doesn’t actually drop the baby after the nice compliment from Oikawa. Kunimi, however, has been eyeing him with a sour look plastered all over his face.

“What’s up with you?” He asks and the younger only pouts and throws his face away.

“Hikaru cried when Kunimi held him,” Oikawa chuckles. Yahaba wants to smack Kunimi on the head, saying that he’s being much more of a baby than Hikaru right now. Yahaba moves Hikaru’s position to where he’s more secure, the small head gently rested against Yahaba’s shoulder and his hand cupping the back of Hikaru’s head to support. He feels so small in Yahaba’s thin frame, and Yahaba is so scared he’ll break the baby after a few worried glances at Oikawa.

“Somehow the image of you and a baby fits so well,” Oikawa teases and pokes at Yahaba’s cheek. “Have you thought about having one?”

Kunimi lets out a mocking ‘pft’ and smacks the arm of the couch. “Please, Oikawa-san, Yahaba-san hasn’t gone a date since his second year of university.”

Oikawa genuinely looked surprised and Yahaba’s face turns into an alarming shade of red.

“Kunimi, I told you to stop bringing up my love life.”

“Wait,” Oikawa interrupts his two juniors who are about to quarrel and worst off, Yahaba is still holding Hikaru in his arms. “You aren’t with Hanamaki?”

“No?” Yahaba denies, his eyebrows arch in confusion. “Why—of all people? Hanamaki-san?”

“Oh,” The older musters, looking away from Yahaba. Oikawa rubs at the back of his neck and tries to swallow the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Awkward. Kunimi also shuts up and looks away, trying to escape from the two and join Watari and Kindaichi on the other couch. “Never mind then, you two are just always together.” A nervous laugh escapes from Oikawa’s lips.

There’s a ring on the door bell and Oikawa excuses himself to go and answer it, leaving Yahaba to play with Hikaru by himself.

“Guess who’s here!” shouts Oikawa and Iwaizumi cheers from the kitchen, Kunimi’s bitter facial expression also somehow magically lit up. Matsukawa appears through the door frame. Yahaba also found himself a little excited to see his senior, since Matsukawa didn’t live in Japan for the last ten or so years. Right after graduating from high school, he had studied abroad in Seoul National University’s Business School and it was only till recently that he moved back to Japan. Apparently the business he works under is opening a branch in Japan and he was appointed as the chairman of the board.

Yahaba securely holds Hikaru before he gets up from the sofa to join the others on greeting Matsukawa.

“Matsukawa-san,” Yahaba greets and the older pulls Yahaba up into a tight hug, almost squishing Hikaru in between their bodies.

“How have you been?” Matsukawa ruffles his hair, giving him a warm smile that seem to haven’t changed since high school. “Heard you’re a big shot doctor now.”

“Ah, who told you this?” He blushes while caressing Hikaru’s head. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are busy in the kitchen and have indirectly left Yahaba with the responsibility of taking care of their child.

“I did,” Hanamaki comes out from the kitchen and wipes his hand on the front of his jeans. “Yo, it’s been awhile since we met.” He fist bumps Matsukawa and Matsukawa pulls Hanamaki into a side hug. Just like high school times.

“You’re still shorter than me I see.” Matsukawa jokes. Hanamaki playfully slaps his arm, feeling happy to be reunited with his best-friend. Of course they keep in contact, but between Seoul and Tokyo, joking over Skype and LINE messages wasn’t as fun as joking together in person.

“I might be shorter but I can kick your ass, Mattsun.” The old nickname surfaces again.

“You and me. Arm wrestling competition. Now.”

“No arm wrestling and help us set the table.” Iwaizumi scolds from the kitchen, already sounding like an old man trying to discipline his children. “I can still kick both of your asses anyway. Now help.”

Yahaba chuckles as his two senpais groan and shuffle towards the kitchen. Iwaizumi has always been the one that actually keeps them all in line, even though he was the vice-captain of the team and Oikawa the captain, Iwaizumi is the one that saves everyone’s ass when things get out of hand. The pillar of strength of the Aobajousai volleyball club. Their reliable and strong ace.

“Your dad just scolded those two,” Yahaba whispers to Hikaru who is looking more and more sleepy as minutes pass and he hopes that the boy doesn’t fall asleep before dinner. “I hope you can be stern like that, unlike your other dad.” He presses a kiss to Hikaru’s head and bounces him a little.  

Dinner went smoothly and a little bit chaotic. There was yelling and laughing, embarrassing stories, and Hanamaki finds himself glued to Matsukawa just like old times, taunting and teasing Oikawa like nothing has changed since they were 18.

“Ah, the duo devils are united again.” Oikawa groans underneath his breath and slumps against his husband. “I feel like my life is going to be just like high school again.” Hanamaki and Matsukawa only give each other a glance and Iwaizumi is done trying to tell those two to back off and resorts to join in the bullying of Oikawa Tooru.

—

“So where are you staying here in Tokyo?” Hanamaki asks. He’s taken the duty to help Matsukawa settle back into life in Japan. “Have you gone back to Miyagi to visit your family?” 

“In Chiyoda, our branch is in Marunouchi.” Matsukawa answers back, his eyes are still glued to his phone screen and scrolls through his to do list for today. “The least inhabited of the wards. I doubt none of you guys live close by.” 

“Ah, Yahaba and I live in Azabu, so we’re not really far away.” 

“Azabu? Since when were you two living together?”

“We’re not,” Hanamaki looks out of the window, trying to focus on the road instead of the conversation. “We happen to live close by. Convenient really, whenever he needs anything.” 

“I see,” replies Matsukawa. “You two haven’t changed since high school.” 

“I just like taking care of him.” 

—

“Hanamaki-san,” his secretary knocks on the door of his office. “You have a guest.” 

Hanamaki who was leaning back against his office chair, feet comfortably placed on the table, was startled and he nearly fell onto the floor if it wasn’t for his quick hands that grip the edge of his table. His secretary tries to hold back a laughter but remains professional as Hanamaki straightens himself up. “Send them in.” He really hates these unexpected guests, ones who don’t book appointments with him before hand.

His design firm is somewhat big and well known. Once in awhile he’d like a break from whiny clients who insist that their wall colour is a wrong shade of white or that the centerpiece of their mansion is not as avant-garde as what they thought it would turn out like.  _ Goddamn _ . 

“Hey,” Matsukawa steps into his office. He’s dressed neat, clean cut in a well tailored ebony suit and a khaki trench coat. Expected as the chairman of the board of a big company. “Neat place you have here.” 

Hanamaki goes back to lean on his office chair, relaxed that it isn’t a client but just Matsukawa. “Thanks. I’ll check out your office one day and see if the interior needs changing.” 

“Everyone’s such big shots now, I feel so intimidated.” Matsukawa laughs, seating himself on the couch in Hanamaki’s office. “First you, Yahaba, Kunimi a big horror novelist.” 

“Ah that kid has always been horrific,” Hanamaki hums, fingers resting on his chin. “I read his latest work and I literally wouldn’t have ever been able to think up of such a traumatizing plot.” 

“Kindaichi has heart attacks now and then when Kunimi asks him to research materials for his latest novels.” 

Hanamaki is glad he isn’t Kunimi’s assistant. Cause researching materials for a horror novelist means watching horror movies non stop, entering abandoned houses with Kunimi at 1AM to satisfy his curiosity. Researching for new interior styles is as frustrating already. 

“When I was still in Seoul, I picked up one of Kunimi’s books and read it in the office, and since then I wasn’t able to stay late nights at the office without my assistant.” Matsukawa scrunches his eyebrows together, feeling the chills down into the bone. “Such good writing. He really makes you feel like you’re in the book with the characters.” 

“One of his books is getting turned into a movie. We should watch it when it premieres.” Hanamaki rolls his office chair away from his table and turns to the big window behind him that overlooks Tokyo Bay. “Or maybe threaten him to invite us to premiere night so we can watch for free.” 

“Ah truly the good thing about having famous kouhais,” Matsukawa chuckles and is soon joined by Hanamaki. “Hey,” he calls out.

“Yeah?” Hanamaki turns around again to face Matsukawa.

“You wanna get lunch?” Matsukawa asks, rubbing his stomach. “I miss Japanese food.”

“I know a good ramen place just a few blocks away,” He gets up from his chair and cleans his trousers. “It’s nothing like the one we go to back in Miyagi when we were high schoolers, but it’s just as delicious.”

Matsukawa nods and gets up from the couch. Hanamaki calls his secretary in to tell that he’s going out for lunch and takes his coat off from the coat hanger. They soon head out of Hanamaki’s office and onto the streets of Tokyo. The ramen place was close enough that Hanamaki didn’t need to drive and it felt nicer to walk alongside Matsukawa, the walk is making them catch up on old conversations. They play a classic game of car plate game and the one who loses has to pay for lunch. Hanamaki wins of course, but out of courtesy for his best-friend returning to Japan after years of living in Seoul, he decides that it’s his welcome home present. And he finds himself with his arms linked with Matsukawa’s, huddling for warmth as they continue to walk through the crowded streets. A warmth that he’s finally feeling again after years. 

—

“Oh, you went and had lunch with him?” Yahaba is sitting with his legs crossed on his living room floor, his hands busy typing onto his laptop. “That must’ve been fun.” 

“It was,” Hanamaki replies, busy preparing dinner for both Yahaba and him. “Hey, do you want me to put in capsicum or not?” 

“Sure.” Yahaba replies and doesn’t even look up from his laptop screen. Hanamaki is familiar with Yahaba’s apartment anyway and doesn’t need guiding around. 

“What are you typing anyway?” Hanamaki asks, he winces a little and wipes the tear that’s rolling down the side of his face. Sauteing onions has always been one of his biggest dreads but he has to for this stir fry. He’s tempted to go and grab a pair of sunglasses to protect his eyes. “Don’t you have interns to do all your paperwork?” 

“Interns aren’t there to be my personal assistant, Hanamaki-san.” He sighs in reply, pausing to read over his last few sentences. “It’s materials for tomorrow’s lecture. I was asked to come in as a guest lecture at Tokyo-U.” 

“Ooh, Doctor Yahaba turning into Professor Yahaba.” He whistles from the kitchen, teasing the younger. “Teach me a lesson, professor.”

Yahaba grimaces and lets out an audibly loud disgusted noise. “Gross, Hanamaki-san. Keep your fantasies away from me.” His fingers go back to typing at a fast speed, trying to finish the presentation before he passes out on the floor from exhaustion and hunger. “You’re turning 31 next month, please refrain.” 

“Ah don’t remind me!” Hanamaki shouts while covering his ears with his hands. He tries to block out the teasing from Yahaba. 

“You’re gonna turn into a grumpy old man like Iwaizumi-san,” Yahaba jokes again and is now getting up from his position on the floor to walk over into the kitchen. Hanamaki still has his hands covering his ears, the pan sizzling hot in front of him and the stench of onions filling the room. He’s yodeling to block all of Yahaba’s teasing. Sometimes Yahaba can be playful and forget his usual professional demeanor. “Old man~” He whispers into Hanamaki’s ear, hands grabbing at the older’s sides and slender fingers gently knead into the material of Hanamaki’s sweatshirt. 

“Yahaba we are standing near a hot stove—” Hanamaki struggles to get out of Yahaba’s hold. “Stop it before our dinner gets burnt.” 

“You’re only sauteing onions, old man.” He giggles and tiptoes so his lips only come within millimeters of the shell of Hanamaki’s ears. “Old man,” He chants over and over again. 

Yahaba’s warm breath sends chills down Hanamaki’s spine and the older finally breaks free from Yahaba’s hold, only to spin Yahaba around, pinning the younger against the kitchen counter. He had always been taller than Yahaba. His big hands grip Yahaba’s hips so he wouldn’t escape and Yahaba is lightly punching at his arms and chest, trying to get away, squirming underneath his hold. “Let me go,”

“Call me old man one more time,” His voice low and the younger can only stand still and look up at him, fingers raking down the length of Hanamaki’s arm. 

“Old man,” Yahaba whispers, his voice soft, head tilting a little to the side and soft strands of brown hair brush over his forehead. 

“Yes, professor?” He leans forward till their foreheads touch, and his fingers digging into the material of Yahaba’s jeans.  

“You’re letting our dinner get burnt, old man.” 

Hanamaki pushes himself away from Yahaba, reality coming back to smack him over the head at the smell of the burning onions and Yahaba sneaks away from the kitchen, laughing and hoping that there will be something to eat tonight cause he’s dying to just eat something. (And hopefully it’s not burnt onions).

Hanamaki watches the younger walk out of the kitchen and his heart momentarily skips a beat.  

—

Having lunch with Matsukawa suddenly becomes a regularity in Hanamaki’s busy schedule. Matsukawa would drop by his office out of the blue and it gets to the point that his secretary and the receptionists all know his name. They don’t even bother checking Matsukawa at the security anymore since he’s such a frequent visitor. 

“You ready?” Matsukawa leans against the door, waiting for Hanamaki to finish clearing up his design folders and equipments. Today he’s dressed in another perfectly tailored suit and Hanamaki wonders if he should start dressing more properly for work. He always rocks a tight fit dress shirt that shows off his athletic build. Sometimes even rolling his sleeves up a little too playfully in front of female clients he wants to persuade into agreeing with his designs. 

“Yeah, be done in a minute.” Hanamaki replies. “I just gotta check up on something.” 

_ I have a conference. Won’t drop by today _ . After finishing the text, he quickly shoves his phone into his pockets. 

“Yahaba?” Matsukawa raises his eyebrow. Hanamaki only nods and puts his coat on over his dress shirt and a brown scarf around his neck. “You two really keep each other updated on everything, huh? Like you’re married.” 

“I wish.” Hanamaki jokes, reaching down to fix the fit of his shoes. 

“You two would make a cute couple.” Matsukawa hums in content, smiling down at his best-friend. “Shall we go?” 

Hanamaki grabs his car keys and they both head off to go get lunch. 

‘ _ Ok.’ _ Was the only thing that Yahaba texted back. Yahaba was never one to reply to texts with long sentences. 

—

“Your birthday is next month, isn’t it?” Matsukawa slurps an udon in one go, getting the soup all over the table and even on Hanamaki’s phone. 

“Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Hanamaki snarks, taking his phone and wiping it clean with a napkin. “And yes, it is. I’m surprised you remember.” 

“I say it every year, why would you think I forget?” Hanamaki looks away from Matsukawa and mumbles a ‘you’re right’ underneath his breath. “Do you even remember mine?” 

“Easy,” Hanamaki says in between bites of his tempura. “March 3rd.” 

“Do you only remember cause it’s on the same day as Yahaba’s?” Matsukawa sounds a little pessimistic, clicking his chopsticks in Hanamaki’s face. Hanamaki has this bewildered look that’s splayed across his face. 

“Of course not!” He denies Matsukawa’s statement. “You’re my best friend, of course I remember your birthday! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Japan’s timezone is the same as Seoul’s, you know.”

“Seriously, I remember. Every year. You get my cards, right?” 

“Of course.” Matsukawa nods. Yes Hanamaki does send him birthday cards every year to Seoul and he always keeps it in the drawer of his office desk. Some years it’s a meaningful friendship message, but most of the time it’s just dumb crack jokes that makes Matsukawa burst into laughter in the middle of his office. 

“Anyway, why do you ask?” 

“Oh nothing. Now that I’m in Japan, we get to actually do something together on birthday’s instead of dumb calls over Skype.” 

Hanamaki chuckles and leans over the table to grab one of Matsukawa’s tempura. “Of course.” And stuffs it in his mouth before Matsukawa complains and demands he goes and order another serving for him. “Shut up, Mattsun. I’m older than you, speak formally to me.” 

“Yeah, whatever, Hanamaki-sama. Now go order me another plate of tempura that you just stole.” Hanamaki rolls his eyes and goes to call the waitress over.   

—

Hanamaki feels a little guilty for not stopping by at Yahaba’s apartment like he does every other day of the week. His conference finished late, due to a lot of changes that was proposed by the board of directors and he, of course, as the president, has to diligently listen to every single input from the directors. 

It was about 11:52PM when he reached the car park, only eight minutes away from midnight. He’s said goodbye to his staff and his secretary, making sure she gets safely into her car before he gets into his own. 

_ Are you still awake? _ His fingers type quickly and taps on the send button. Yahaba has odd sleeping hours, some days he’ll be asleep at 8PM on the couch and on some days he’ll sleep at 3AM because of paperwork and preparing materials for a lecture. He sort of wishes the little typing icon will appear. 

But it doesn’t. And he starts his car engine and quickly drives out of his office building and onto the lonely midnight streets of Tokyo. The radio plays UVERworld, one of Yahaba’s favourite band and he drives silently as the song plays in the background. 

By the time he reaches his apartment, he doesn’t even get a chance to check his phone before he throws himself into a quick and warm shower and head straight to bed. 

—

“Woah, you went on a date last night?” Kunimi’s mouth is wide in shock and Yahaba has to smack his hand over the younger’s mouth to avoid making a commotion in the middle of hospital’s cafeteria. 

“It wasn’t a date,” Yahaba whispers, eyes moving from side to side and making sure no one is listening to their conversation. The nurses all walk by and greet Dr. Yahaba and Yahaba gives them the most sincere and kindest of smiles. Yahaba is named the handsomest doctor in the hospital. “There were other people too. Dr. Shirabu was there.” 

“I thought you didn’t like Dr. Shirabu?” Kunimi leans forward but his voice is not going any softer. “Was he there to cockblock you and Dr. Futakuchi?” 

“For the last time, it wasn’t a date. It was just an outing with the residents here.” Yahaba straightens the stethoscope around his neck. “Dr. Futakuchi has a fiance anyway. He’s the director of your dumbass movie, Kunimi.” 

“You won’t be calling that movie dumb once I hear you screaming while watching it,” He sounded so proud of himself. “It’s the scariest and based on my best-selling novel.” 

“You’re horrific.” Yahaba adds before taking a sip of his coffee.

“I try to be. I’m not Japan’s number one horror novelist for nothing.” Yahaba rolls his eyes. Kunimi is pretty much almost always hanging out around the hospital because he’s trying to get a nice horror feel. Yahaba suggests that Kunimi stick around at 1AM but he says it’s no fun when Yahaba isn’t there to be with him at the hospital.  _ “I’d rather sleep at home than help you meet a ghost.” _

—

“So you went out last night huh?” Hanamaki is over at Yahaba’s apartment as per usual. They’re both sitting on the couch, the TV is on and it’s playing a rerun of an old romantic comedy movie. Yahaba has his laptop open and set on his lap and so does Hanamaki, because he has a big project he’s working on with Yachi Hitoka, a famous and amazing interior designer. When he told Yahaba that he scored a project with Yachi Hitoka, he sounded happier than that time he won a free bag of profiteroles. 

Yahaba nods. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t get your text till morning time. I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay.” Hanamaki replies, feeling a little uneasy. “But you usually tell me if you’re going out though.” 

“I figured since you had that conference, I should’ve just went out too.” Yahaba answers back and not taking his eyes off the movie on his big flat screen TV. “Akaashi-san picked me up and drove me back so don’t worry.” 

_ Akaashi-san? Who’s that? _ He wonders but he really doesn’t have the right to say whether or not Yahaba can go out or not. It’s not like they’re dating, or married. Like the way everyone jokes around about them. Yahaba and Hanamaki the married couple. 

“Well I’m glad you got home safe,” Hanamaki runs his fingers through Yahaba’s hair. “Now can we change the channels? I’m sick of this.” 

“No way, this is disgustingly good.” Yahaba takes hostage of the remote and hides it in the pocket of his hoodie.. Hanamaki places his laptop on the coffee table before he goes to tackle the younger in attempt to grab the remote control away from him. Play fighting for them was normal. 

And Hanamaki’s heart totally doesn’t want to combust whenever he hears Yahaba’s gentle laugh ring in his ears as he pins him down onto the couch and tickles his sides.

—

An incoming call cuts off the song that’s playing on the radio and Hanamaki hovers his eyes over at the screen on the dashboard. Oikawa. 

“What’s up?” He says after pressing the receive call button on the steering wheel. 

“Where are you?”

“Driving to Shinjuku, I have to meet with Yachi Hitoka at her firm.” He answers back to Oikawa. “Why?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Oikawa sounds a little more hesitant than usual. “I’m over at Yahaba’s.” Oikawa doesn’t really have activities in Minato, since he lives in the suburbs and out of the city, and his workplace isn’t even near to Azabu. 

“Is everything okay?” He tries to sound like he’s not panicking. 

“I was having brunch with him and he collapsed,” Hanamaki almost wants to cancel off his meeting with Yachi Hitoka and turn his car around. “He told me that it was only exhaustion from overworking himself with research, lectures and hospital hours.” 

There’s dread in Hanamaki’s stomach. And Yahaba is always so stubborn with his odd sleeping hours, never sleeping in his bed and choosing the cold wooden floor over his expensive and comfortable mattress, or forgetting to eat three times a day. 

“After I’m finished with my meeting, I’ll go there as fast as possible.” The call cuts off and he spends the rest of his drive to Yachi Hitoka’s firm with an uneasy stomach, wanting to know if the younger is resting properly and actually fucking resting instead of laying in bed with his laptop on his lap and working on research. Yahaba has a different definition of resting. 

His meeting with her was nonetheless professional, as to be expected. Yachi Hitoka is a beautiful and petite blonde haired woman who is only two years younger than him but has had a lot of success in the design world. He feels almost like he’s stepping into a dream when he steps foot in the firm, the interior perfectly coordinated with big windows that overlook the busy fashion district of Shinjuku. Classy and edgy. 

“Hanamaki-san,” Her voice soft and gentle as she holds out her hand for a handshake and Hanamaki takes it into his, trying not to lose it over meeting someone he considers a great role model. “It’s a pleasure to be working with you.” 

“Likewise, Yachi-san.” He replies and they sit down in the meeting room and go over their plans for the interior design of a newly established resort and spa. He momentarily forgets the uneasiness that’s growing in his stomach. 

Much to his dismay, Yahaba was resting properly. Thankfully. Oikawa confiscated all of his research papers and his Macbook and stacks it on top of the coffee table. When Hanamaki had burst through the door, he was greeted by Oikawa who’s watching TV by himself in the living room and telling him to be quiet because Yahaba is sleeping. 

At least he can take a breath of relief. He hangs his coat on the coat rack and changes into the house slippers, joining Oikawa on the couch. “Oh thank god,” He sighs. “Thank god he’s okay.” Oikawa rubs Hanamaki’s back, telling him all is fine and there’s nothing to worry about. 

“He’s lucky to have someone like you, y’know?” Oikawa grins. “He’s so stubborn sometimes, it’s adorable. I had to pinch his cheek to get him to lay in bed.”

“That’s what friends are for, I guess.” He leans back on the couch, hands covering his face, trying to catch a breath cause of his frantic dash from the car park to Yahaba’s apartment. “Taking care of each other.” 

“Friends, huh?” Oikawa musters, moving in his seat to get in a comfortable position. “Are you okay with that term? Friends?” 

“I’m just happy to be a part of his life.” 

“I see,” that was the only reply Oikawa gives before he turns back into the TV show he’s watching. Hanamaki slowly closes his eyes and lets the sleepiness overtake him, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. He misses a two text messages from Matsukawa asking him if he’s busy and one email from Yachi Hitoka’s assistant on their travel arrangements to Okinawa.

—

“Sorry, I only just checked my phone.” He rings Matsukawa up the next morning. He has the day off and he’s cooking a nice warm porridge over the stove for a sick Yahaba. “But I don’t think I can head out for lunch today, Yahaba’s sick and I have to pack for Okinawa.” 

“I see,” Matsukawa replies, sounding a little disappointed but he quickly brushes it off. “Why are you going to Okinawa?” 

His hands are busy with stirring, so he has his phone clamped in between his ear and his shoulders. He prays it doesn’t drop in the middle of the pot. “There’s a new big resort that wants me to be their interior designer.” 

“Big shot,” The other male chuckles. “You going alone?” 

“I’m going with one of my senior designers and my secretary. So is Yachi Hitoka and one of her staff probably.” 

“Yachi Hitoka?”

“My partnering firm in this project.” He replies and finally grabs the phone with his hand after placing the wooden spoon down. “She’s a lovely lady, very talented too.” 

“You gonna make a move?” Matsukawa jokes and Hanamaki rolls his eyes at his best-friend’s cheesy statement.

“Ass.” Hanamaki snarks. “She’s married.” 

“Oh so you also checked her ring finger?” He can’t help but tease Hanamaki and Hanamaki wants to smack Matsukawa with the wooden spoon right now. 

“I’m gonna hang up you asshole.” He threatens, his thumb hovering over the end call option. 

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Matsukawa apologizes. “Tell Yahaba to get better soon. And have fun in Okinawa. I want souvenirs.” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Bye.” He ends the call and goes to find a bowl to prepare the porridge. Today is about taking care of his dumbass and stubborn kouhai. He completely forgets about packing for Okinawa. 

—

Kunimi drops Hanamaki off at Haneda Airport at 5AM, cursing underneath his breath on why Hanamaki’s secretary had to book a 6AM flight when there are much later, afternoon flights. 

“You better get me a souvenir for this good deed.” He demands, voice still heavy with sleep. 

“Dropping your senpai off at the airport is hardly a good deed you un-cute kouhai.” Hanamaki reaches to ruffle Kunimi’s messy hair. “Thanks though. You can go back to your horror dreamland.” He says after getting his suitcase from the trunk. Truthfully Hanamaki wanted Yahaba to drop him off but from his recent collapse, he wanted Yahaba to rest in bed. Watari was the next best driver as there would be way less complaining coming from him, but the guy lives out of the city and he didn’t feel great having to bother Watari that early in the morning.

Kunimi? Hanamaki doesn’t care. Kunimi has had his fair share of being a pain in the ass for Hanamaki. 

“Have fun in Okinawa, Hanamaki-san.” Kunimi waves him goodbye and rolls up the window of his car, pulling away from the drop off zone. Hanamaki buttons up his coat and fix his sunglasses that hides his puffy and swollen eyes. His secretary and staff were already waiting for him by the check in and baggage drop. He thanks the heavens for having such brilliant and reliable employees. 

He also spots Yachi Hitoka coming out of from her GLA SUV, looking much more fashionable and put together compared to him. Her wife also comes out to help her with her luggage. Yachi Hitoka’s wife was just as gorgeous as she is, taller, with black hair that falls just below the shoulders. 

“Yachi-san!” Hanamaki calls out, waving his hand at her. Yachi lifts up her sunglasses to see where the voice was coming from. 

“Hello!” She cheers back. Hanamaki drags his suitcase behind him to walk over to Yachi and her wife. “Hanamaki-san, this is my wife, Kiyoko.”

“Hello.” Hanamaki greets and Kiyoko smiles politely, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Kiyoko-san.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Hanamaki-san. Hitoka keeps telling me how excited she is to work on this project with you.” Yachi blushes a little and lets out a shy giggle, playing with the material of her overcoat. 

“Yukie-chan is already waiting for me,” Yachi looks over at the check-in gates. “I’m going to leave now.” 

Kiyoko cups her hands on Yachi’s cheeks, pulling her up into a hug and plants a kiss on her forehead. “Have a safe flight, Hitoka.” 

Hanamaki can’t help but feel a little jealous. 

—

Turns out, Hanamaki and Yachi have quite a lot in common. Their background of design school and careers in interior design is one but Hanamaki never knew that Yachi was a manager of a volleyball team back when she was in her high school years. Yachi knows of Hanamaki, as she’s seen him and his team play against her former high school, Karasuno High. He finds it comfortable to talk to her about volleyball games, even though he’s stopped playing for years and his career has basically taken over his life. 

They sit next to each other on the plane, mouths not stopping even once to exchange their life stories. Yachi and Hanamaki are both from Miyagi, that’s another thing they have in common. She also owns her own fashion line called K&Y that her wife manages while also working as an editor-in-chief at a publishing house. Hanamaki recalls K&Y being one of the large amount of fashion brands that his female employees talk about in the office. 

“So, Hanamaki-san,” Yachi turns to him and crosses her legs. “Are you married? Significant other? Fiancee? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” She brushes her blonde hair out of her eyes. 

Hanamaki swallows a little and lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m.. actually single.” 

“No way!” Yachi sounds a little surprised at his answer. “Anyone would be pretty lucky to be with you.” 

“Ah,” He gapes at her statement. “I do like someone though.” Scratches the back of his head out of awkwardness. “But it’s not like it’s mutual. We just enjoy each other’s company.” 

“Well, I hope this crush of yours realize sooner or later on what he’s missing on.” 

“I hope so too.” He chuckles and they get back to discussing about other things in life, like where they grew up, when did Yachi and Kiyoko get married, what her favourite food is and etc. Before they realize the plane has landed in Naha Airport. Four messages came through as he switches his phone off from airplane mode. 

_ Have a safe flight. _ Reads one text message from Yahaba. 

_ Yooo, bring me back souvenirs or else _ . He rolls his eyes at Matsukawa’s text. 

There’s another two from Yahaba. Surprised since Yahaba never double texts, triple text even.  _ Thank you for taking care of me when I was sick.  _

_ Sorry I couldn’t drop you off at the airport. _

He smiles a little to himself, feeling his heart flutter as he’s standing by the baggage carousel waiting for his suitcase. _ I’ll be back in three days _ . He replies and pockets his phone. He’s joined by his senior designer, Kawanishi and his secretary, Runa who had already grabbed his suitcase for him. 

Okinawa is much warmer than Tokyo. He shrugs off his coat and heads out to where the cars that were provided by the resort company are waiting for them. He’s just hoping that all of his work goes well and that there’s no extensions to his work.

—

His first day went well. He and Yachi met with the management of the resort and talked through their designs, were explained the budgets, the blueprints and map of the resort that has a total of 600 rooms to design with the spa, restaurants and all of the other facilities. The resort overall was just humongous and he feels that he’ll be taking trips back and forth from Tokyo to Okinawa a lot. 

Their hotel is not that far away from the resort. When Hanamaki first entered is room, his only impression was that his room holds a spectacular view of the seaside. He lets the windows stay open, regardless of it being in early winter. It was warm enough. 

He also found himself checking his phone more often. There’s an occasional text from Matsukawa, asking  how things are, and he’s sent snapshots to him and a ‘don’t you wish you were here with me’ teasing message. Oikawa, for one, was bitter than Hanamaki got to stay at the ANA InterContinental hotel because Oikawa has been sulking at Iwaizumi for quite sometime to go there for a vacation. 

Yahaba hasn’t texted him aside from the one he received this morning. He’s probably busy, at the lab with his research, or maybe at the hospital, or preparing for a lecture. He wants to get his mind off him and accepts Kawanishi’s offer when the younger invited him to drink with the management staff and their design team. 

Which, he finds to be an absolute mistake because he’s weak to alcohol and after one too many shots of sake and shots of other kinds of liquor (he’s had too many to even remember), he’s stumbling over his feet and into his hotel room. 

He excused himself earlier. Yachi asks if he was feeling alright and he politely says that he just wants to get some sleep and that his 30 year old body doesn’t handle alcohol the same way as back when he was 20. This answer results in a giggle from Yachi and her assistant, Yukie.

The bed is soft and warm and he lays there for a moment, looking out of the windows he forgot to close earlier. Stars. The sky was clear, unlike the dull shades of grey in Tokyo’s winter. He wishes Yahaba was here to see it with him. To lay in bed with him here and just enjoy the silence and peace away from their hectic schedules and deafening sound of city traffic. 

“I wonder what you’re doing,” He mumbles to himself, hands groping the sides of his pants in attempt to find his phone. It was 2.30AM. Yahaba is most likely to be asleep, but then again he could still be curled into a ball and researching in the middle of his living room. 

And all of this right now feels unrealistic to him. Like a big fat joke. His fingers move to unlock his phone and dial the number that he’s memorized off the top of his head for years. And he answers, voice croaky, he was sleeping. “I miss you,” 

“Hello?” The voice on the other end groans. “Who is this..? Hanamaki-san?” He can hear the sounds of fabric shifting and the bedpost creaking from Yahaba moving his body. 

“Yahaba,” Hanamaki whispers. “Next time, let’s come here together. Just you and me.”  

“Hanamaki-san, are you sober right now?”

“I don’t know.” The older chuckles, running his fingers through his damp hair. “I sure hope I’m not.” 

“Hanamaki-san,” 

“I’m in love with someone who doesn’t even know I love him.” He chokes. “And, we’re really close. And he’s probably too busy with his career to even notice my feelings.” 

Yahaba takes a deep breath and swallows hard. Not knowing what to say anymore. 

“He’s gorgeous, you know? For someone who’s turning 30 years old this March. And he’s totally smart. Nerdy sometimes, but I think it’s very cute of him.” Word after word come out of his mouth. “I’m in love with every single bit of him. Sometimes he’s useless at house chores though, and I feel the happiest when I can help him out. Taking care of him. All of my friends joke that we’re like a married couple.” 

“But I’m happy just being a part of his life.” Hanamaki says one last time, his voice low and wobbly. “Even if he doesn’t love me the way I do.” There’s an aching and sadness in his tone that scares Yahaba as the line cuts off, leaving him in complete silence. 

_ I’m in love with every single bit of him  _ plays over and over in Yahaba’s head and he shuts off his phone, trying to get back to sleep without minding how tight his chest feels. His heart also aches and there’s a big lump in his throat that won’t go away no matter how many times he swallows. 

Why should he be bothered when it’s true that he doesn’t love him back at all. 

At least, not in the same way Hanamaki does. 

That night he never managed to fall back to sleep. 

—

The next two days pass by quickly for Hanamaki. He knows he woke up hungover the next day, there’s only been one phone call that was made and it was to Yahaba, so he shrugs it off. He tends to drunkenly call people. But most of the time all he ever says is just utter nonsense that it would be a big laugh among his group of friends. 

Yahaba doesn’t text him at all, even after he’s returned to Tokyo. 

Kunimi is the one who picks him up again, a scowl on his face, deliberately showing Hanamaki his inconvenienced face as his car pulls up to the domestic arrival terminal. Hanamaki parted ways with his design team and Yachi Hitoka has her wife waiting for her by the terminal already. 

“Did you bring me souvenirs?” Kunimi asks, changing the gears from parked to drive after Hanamaki was safely secured in the passenger seat. 

“All in the suitcase.” He answers. “Where’s Yahaba? I thought he was going to pick me up?” 

“Yahaba’s busy.” Kunimi bluntly replies. “He’s packing to go to London.” 

“London? For how long?” He’s surprised because, again, Yahaba would tell him things like these and is usually the first one to know about it instead of hearing it from someone else. 

“Three months. His research team got invited to some kind of thing—I wasn’t really listening when he was talking the other day.” Kunimi groans. “His scientific and medical terms are too much for my brain.” 

“Do you know when he’s leaving?” Hanamaki asks, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

“In three weeks.” Kunimi answers. “27th of January.” 

—

“You seem out of it,” Matsukawa flicks Hanamaki’s forehead. He’s been out of it since he arrived from Okinawa last week and now even at lunch with Matsukawa he’s zoning out and his mind going completely blank. 

“I just, it’s nothing.” His voice grows weak.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

It’s nice to have a reassuring and reliable best-friend in times like these cause Hanamaki has spent the last week just wondering what he’s done wrong, why Yahaba has been ignoring his text messages and phone calls, purposely avoiding meeting him and busying himself at the hospital or with his research. 

And he’s leaving too. To London for three months. A news that he had to hear through Kunimi and not from Yahaba himself. But he shrugs it off as Yahaba probably was finding the right time to tell him cause he knows Hanamaki is stressing over the resort project. 

“Yahaba’s leaving to London,” He mutters underneath his breath. His hands turn into fists on his thighs, clutching the material of his pants. “On my birthday.” Looking down at his lap wasn’t really helping the big lump in his throat, nor the tears that are starting to form but he fights it back, unsuccessfully. “I kind of, don’t know why he’s avoiding me. And it kind of sucks, you know?” 

“Makki,” Matsukawa gives him a supportive pat on shoulder.

“I don’t know how much of my happiness is left to sacrifice for him.” His long fingers goes to grab a tissue and dab at the tears that well at the underneath his eyes. “My chest kind of hurts.” 

“Love does kind of hurt,” Matsukawa slides himself beside Hanamaki and wraps his arm around him. “Grief is the price we pay for love.” 

“Nice quote you got there,” Hanamaki tries to laugh in between ugly sobbing and sniffing. “E.A. Bucchianeri will be proud of you.” 

Matsukawa gives him another tight squeeze before letting him go. “I’m always here to cheer you up.” 

—

It doesn’t surprise him how things naturally fall back into rhythm. He’s busy working on his resort project with Yachi Hitoka to mind the ongoing mess that is his personal life. He’s grown attached to Matsukawa again, hips glued together just like back in high school. There’s occasionally times where Matsukawa has to fly back to Seoul for a meeting with the main branch and Hanamaki is catching a plane to and from Okinawa like it’s a casual afternoon stroll. 

Matsukawa has gotten himself a car in which the two of them spent the weekend driving back to Miyagi together to visit their families. Oikawa and Iwaizumi tag along with baby Hikaru and they take turns in the car holding Hikaru. The baby may or may not have thrown up all over Hanamaki’s lap halfway through the trip. 

They even manage to visit their old high school. Coach Irihata had long retired and Mizoguchi is now the head coach and advisor for the team. He links his arm with Matsukawa as they stroll down the streets of Miyagi. Miyagi was colder compared to Tokyo. There was a moment where he lets go of Matsukawa’s arm but he was quick to be pulled in by Matsukawa’s arms that wrap around his smaller frame. 

He had completely forgotten about Yahaba and it dreads him to watch as the days grow closer and closer to his departure. And to his 31st birthday. Yahaba has been busy, occasionally replying to Hanamaki’s texts when he has time. They haven’t met since Yahaba fell sick a few weeks ago. And every time he asks the younger if he could come over, Yahaba would say that he wasn’t home or is out at the hospital. 

Maybe there was something that happened in that phone call on his first night in Okinawa. But he can’t even remember what he said, or how much he even had to drink to end up in such a hungover state. 

_ Time will answer and heal it all _ . Was the only thing Iwaizumi had to say when they all gathered at the usual ramen place they go to after high school matches. The shopkeeper still recognizes them all and it feels like home again. 

—

26th of January is when Yahaba calls him again for the first time in weeks. Hanamaki was startled at the special ringtone he had set for Yahaba’s contact to thrill in the silence of his office room. He quickly pushes himself off of his office chair and grabs his phone from his desk. 

“Hey,” he greets. “What’s up?” 

There was a long pause before Yahaba replies to his greeting, sounding a little hesitant and forced. “Hanamaki-san..” 

“What’s wrong Yahaba?” 

“Can you come over right now?” His voice grew quiet on the other end of the line. “T-there’s.. something I kind of want to talk to you about.” 

—

Hanamaki arrives at Yahaba’s apartment twenty minutes later. His footsteps heavy and the lump in his throat returns, worry filling up his stomach. He had knocked on the door, but of course it will always be unlocked for Hanamaki. 

Yahaba has never locked his apartment door when he knows Hanamaki is going to burst through sooner or later. 

“Hey,” the younger says, giving him a weak smile. “Let’s talk out on the balcony. The sky’s clear tonight.”

He follows Yahaba through his apartment. This was the first time he set foot in it after weeks. Usually he’s here every day, and everywhere, all over the apartment there’s a presence of Hanamaki. Like the kitchen that he cooks more in than Yahaba does. The bathroom that has two toothbrushes cause Hanamaki ends up staying the night to babysit Yahaba through his hectic research sessions, because who else will remind him to eat and dry his hair properly so he doesn’t catch a cold. 

“What do you want to talk about?” Hanamaki asks Yahaba who was leaning against the railings, his small hands hidden behind the sleeves of his oversized white cable knit sweater. 

“Us.” Yahaba grins. “I want to talk about us.” Fingers grabbing onto the metal railing. “That night you got drunk in Okinawa, you confessed to me.” 

“Oh,” Hanamaki musters. He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to throw up into the bathroom sink right now. “I’m s-sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” His voice is calm, only giving him nothing but a sincere smile on his face. The one that has made Hanamaki fall in love over and over again. 

“Yahaba,” He feels weak and Yahaba lets go of the railings to cup his fingers on Hanamaki’s cheeks. They felt cold against his burning skin. 

“I’m sorry,” Hanamaki wants to tear up, but he’s never cried in front of Yahaba before. He wants Yahaba to always see him as strong. The one who protects him. “I’m sorry I can’t love you the way you deserve to be loved.” 

The tears roll down his cheeks, covering Yahaba’s slim and small fingers, but Yahaba doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t even pull away, and only wipes it away with his own digits. “I don’t deserve you.” 

Yahaba’s voice was nothing but sincerity with an undertone of aching, sadness, and is much better at trying to keep himself together than Hanamaki is. “I leave for London tomorrow evening.” He swallows and lets his fingers fall onto Hanamaki’s shoulders. “Please take care of yourself here.” 

Yahaba lets go of his shoulders, but Hanamaki’s arms goes to wrap around Yahaba’s thin waist, pulling him into a long hug that catches him off guard. 

“I don’t regret falling in love with you.” 

“I know.” Yahaba whispers into his ear. “I don’t regret everything we did together.” 

_ “I hope you find someone who loves you as much as you love them.” _

—

27th of January, Hanamaki turns 31 years old. There’s something about being one year above 30 that makes him feel like he’s living a boring adult life, sitting on the couch in the middle of his living room, surrounded by presents that his friends sent to him via post because they’re all busy assholes who have successful careers. 

“So this is what it’s like to have your heart broken,” Hanamaki chuckles as he feels Matsukawa join him on the couch, leaning against the smaller male and placing his arm behind him on the couch. “I thought only teenage girls get heart breaks.”

“Sucks doesn’t it?” Matsukawa jokes back, his hand grips Hanamaki’s shoulder and pulls him into his side. Hanamaki settles into the warmth of Matsukawa’s body, resting his head on the junction of Matsukawa’s shoulder and neck. He lets out a sigh and eyes at the presents spread out on the coffee table. 

“I guess it’s just time for me to move on with life, I guess.” 

“Yeah?” Matsukawa agree and blows on a strand of Hanamaki’s pink hair that was standing up. “I’ll be happy to help you move on.” 

“Move on to the afterlife?” Hanamaki jokes and Matsukawa’s idle hand smacks the top of his head. 

“No, you ass. Move on like, me and you.” 

“Huh?” Hanamaki raises his eyebrows, not in a confused sort of way but more of an ‘oh, this is interesting’ kind of way. “I’ve never thought about me and you.” 

“I’ll teach you about ‘me and you’.”

“Woah there, Mr. Suave. Not so fast.” Hanamaki laughs and stops Matsukawa’s pouting lips with the palm of his hand. “You gotta win me over first.” 

Matsukawa chuckles and darts forward quickly to plant a kiss on top of Hanamaki’s head that leaves him shouting a surprised ‘hey!’ and lightly slapping at his chest. “I’ll win you over little by little.” 

**Author's Note:**

> hanayaha.. is my otp and so is matsuhana.. my soul is wrecked in the process of writing this.


End file.
